What He Last Saw
by theonewhofights
Summary: The last thing that Ignis ever saw was the look of terror on the scarred face of his closest friend Gladiolus. Which is only fitting, really, as that's to be expected after bickering, joking, and cuddling the night before in a too small, shared bed. Even though he'd told Noct nothing would happen. And nothing did. Right? (Gladnis, hints of Promptis).


**Hello, everyone! Woo, I'm back, after a yearlong break that was _so_ well needed. It feels great to be part of the community again. I've missed you guys!**

 **Ok, so, over this past year I've been getting into a lot of different fandoms, and FFXV is one of them. The game is absolutely gorgeous, emotional, and fun. I fell in love with the characters as well as their story, and I hope I do a good job of portraying them!**

 **About this story in particular, it's just a small thing about the events that occur once the group of four reaches Altissia (so please, if you haven't gotten past that point in the game, I suggest you don't read because there are a few spoilers). This contains a bit of Promptis (love them. So. Much.) as well as Gladnis (I love writing about their intimate moments away from the others).**

 **That's all I have for now! Happy reading!**

* * *

The last thing that Ignis ever saw was the look of pure terror etched onto the scarred face of his closest friend Gladiolus. It wasn't the sun, nor the face of an attacker, nor was it the thing that had robbed him of his sight in the first place. And no, it was not the flying vehicle that had swept Ardyn away, like he had told Noctis that fateful day on the train.

No. It had been terror.

Gladio had been screaming, too. Screaming too loudly, but at the same time not loudly enough, not enough to be heard over the roar of panicking people fleeing the city. Certainly not enough to be heard over the shriek of the waves slamming into said people, spearing them, pulling them, drowning them. And then the water had turned red...slowly at first (for it had began a light pink like that of an innocent blush), yet as time went on and people were pulled in it turned an ugly scarlet.

The pair had done the best that they could to escort the people from Altissia. To get them the hell away from an Astral turned furious with anger, from a being willing and ready and able to tear them all apart. They did their best.

And yet, it seemed, in the end their best was not enough, for fate deemed their effort merely passable...and chose to extract something else in exchange for the life of the King.

It wasn't as though he wouldn't have given up his sight anyway, if he must to save Noctis.

Sight was a minuscule thing in the grand battle between Lucis and Niflheim.

So small that it was _nothing._

...but still.

An illusion of choice would've been nice.

* * *

Ignis tried to seem as though he was not shocked when Noctis handed him a room key, but judging from the half smirk the Prince was sending him, he wasn't doing the best job. "I...get my own room?"

There was no way that the raven-haired man was actually going to let his advisor sleep in peace and quiet...was there? After all of the nights cooking and scolding and fighting and killing and driving and talking and preaching and fishing and hunting and plotting and invisible crying and hurting and Your-Highness-the-car-can't-travel-at-the-speed-of-a-warp-strike-slow-down-the-Regalia-ing...was he truly being granted an evening of zero stress?

"Close." Noctis jutted his chin in the direction of the entrance of The Leville. Standing there were Gladio and Prompto; the former leaning against the wall while his amber eyes scanned the area for threats, and the latter admiring the fanciness of the establishment. "You're sharing with Gladio."

As if he could feel their gazes on him (the royal chef would bet a hundred gil that he actually could) the Shield glanced at the two whom were debating by the check-in counter. He sent them a ' _sup_ ' nod and continued scanning.

Irritation bloomed in Ignis the same time fondness did, a combination normally considered unusual but lately one the tall man found quite common for him. "Do _not_ tell me you rented two rooms that each have twin beds. We haven't the gil to afford that-"

The Prince was already waving him off before he could finish his sentence. "Of course I didn't." Just as Ignis took in a breath to let out in a relived sigh, Noctis added, "I only rented one of those, for Prom and I. You and Gladio get to share a bed."

" _What?_ " Came the indignant reply.

"What?" Returned its innocent counterpart.

"Firstly, if anybody should be sharing a bed, it should be _you_ and _Prompto_."

"Why?"

" _Because Prompto isn't the size of a damn behemoth, that's why_."

Noctis was caught between stifling his smile behind his hand or hiding the way his shoulder shrunk a bit at Ignis' tone by making it look like a shrug. He chose the latter. "Prompto hogs all the blankets."

If he had had less dignity, Ignis would've outright snorted at the lie. Yeah, no. The Prince was a blanket hogger if there ever was one and that could easily be figured out by looking at whatever bed he had shared: during sleeping hours the sheets decided to magically _migrate_ towards the Prince's side of the bed. "Please, Noct. I've taught you to lie better than that."

"Maybe I wasn't trying to lie." The future King shot back. Noctis folded his arms in front of him, somehow managing to appear more sulky than he usually did. His tone lost all of its potential playfulness to turn serious instead. "Maybe I'm trying to give you a chance before tomorrow happens, Specs."

"Give me a chance?" Ignis coolly narrowed his eyes and brought his eyebrows together. "A chance at _what?_ "

There was silence between the two for several moments as a staring contest ensued. Emerald eyes drilled into deep blue ones: searching, seeking, finding...and not liking what they found.

"No, Noct."

"Yes."

" _No_."

" _Yes_."

"Nothing will happen." The words were cold. "Nothing _has_ happened, nothing _will_ happen, so if you wouldn't mind I'll take the room with two separate beds."

"Listen to me, Ignis." Noctis glanced over at their other companions to see if they were eavesdropping on the discussion. They weren't. When he turned back to his Advisor, his pupils had grown stormy beneath his dark bangs. "After tomorrow...after tomorrow things aren't going to be the same. You must know that already. I have to fight a god, you three have to get several thousand people the hell out of here, and only the gods know what's going to happen to Altissia. This will be our last semi-normal night."

Ignis softened a bit while the speech was said. For a second he was reminded of just how much Noct had grown on their journey, though it was still far from over (and the future King had more growing to do yet). How Noctis had become more confused and at the same time more determined, even as the true goal the group was setting out to accomplish became more and more unclear. It made the tall man sigh through his nose. If Ignis felt as though he was eighty years old, Noctis must've felt as though he was one hundred and eighty (when he bothered to be pensive instead of lazy).

The Advisor sighed quietly again to bring his thoughts back to the present. He understood the point that his friend was making, but... "And you?"

"What about me?"

Taking hold of Noctis' chin, the royal chef directed his head until the Prince could plainly see Prompto, whom still carried a slightly awed look upon his features. Ignis let his hand fall once he saw that the raven-haired man's focus had obviously diverted. His dark blue pupils trailed after the gunslinger in a way that could only be described as tentative, like he wanted to gaze yet feared being caught.

"Do you not wish to share the closeness of a comfortable bed with him? Possibly the last comfortable bed you will sleep in for quite some time?" Ignis watched as Noctis' expression changed to become guarded (or rather, more guarded than usual). "...do you not wish to take a chance of your own?"

The Prince looked away from the blonde, scowling. "My chances are my business. You're my Advisor, so you're chances are my business by default."

"Yes, I am your Advisor, as you so kindly pointed out. My job is to advise you." Ignis peered at the younger man. His face still carried a scowl. "You should ta-"

"He doesn't need someone like me to be happy, Ignis." Noctis cut in. He shook his head at himself. "Never mind need. He doesn't _want..._ "

The bespectacled man thought to the times he'd caught Prompto sneaking peeks at the future King. How many photos of Noct were saved in his camera. How often he subtly tried to impress his best friend by performing acrobatics in battle and shooting impossible targets. "I warn you not to be so sure."

Another beat of quiet.

"It doesn't matter anyway." Noctis concluded, even though it _very much did indeed_ matter. "Just take this shot, Specs."

"Allow me to repeat that nothing is to happen-"

"You don't know that for sure-"

"I'm certain I do-"

"Well you could at least _try_ -"

" _I could say the same to you, Highness_ -"

"Hey, Noct!"

The bickering of the two abruptly halted when each heard a different voice that was far more bubbly than either of theirs. Prompto saw both of their heads turn and bounded up to them eagerly. Ignis noted that his camera was out, as well as the excited flush high on his cheeks. The blonde didn't hesitate to grab the hand of his sour best friend and begin tugging him away. He spoke lighting fast. "Oh my gods, Noct, have you seen how pretty this place is!? I got some really good pics of the chandelier and some of the view from out of the window, gods, they must clean that glass every freaking _day_ it's so shiny and clear. They must work as hard as they do at the Citadel to keep this place spotless. I mean, not that here is better, the two places aren't comparable..."

Noctis' expression steadily changed to become more relaxed as his friend babbled away. As he was led up the stairs by the gunslinger (who clearly didn't know where he was going, but in true Prompto fashion had decided to just go with it) he could be heard laughing lightly. Ignis allowed the corners of his own mouth to tilt upwards. Those two...ugh. They were so infuriatingly naive sometimes. The emerald-eyed man cared for them both anyway.

"Are the kids giggling like schoolgirls again?"

 _Gladio._ Dammit. Dammit, dammit, _dammit_. The Advisor had forgotten for a moment about that issue. It wasn't that Gladio was the issue (or maybe he was), it was that Ignis was the issue. Again. As he tilted his head to glance at his long time friend and caught a glimpse of his easy grin, Ignis knew all at once that oh yes, he was creating an issue. Hadn't he been brought up to _solve_ issues, not create them? He sure as hell hadn't been brought up to solve _this_ particular kind of issue, though, so how was he supposed to know what to do?

Instead of doing one of the many things he desperately wanted to (run from the room, catch a boat back to Lucis, then bury himself in bed at Cape Caem to think everything out. Tearing his hair from his scalp and shoving Gladio against a wall were also on that list), Ignis faced his living fear and said, "You say that as if they don't do it all the time already."

A low, rumbling laugh sounded. "Got that right, Iggy. Think they'll start gossiping to each other over the cutest boy band?"

Since Noctis wasn't here, Ignis really did snort aloud. "Astrals forbid they begin making us carry posters in the car and hang them up everywhere we go."

Another laugh. "Nah, the kids are bad, but they ain't _that_ bad."

Ignis finally let himself look at his fear fully rather than pretend to be absorbed in cleaning an invisible smudge from his glasses. It wasn't the typical fear, like one might assume; not spiders, leeches, the dark, enclosed spaces, death, clowns (although the sight of a few truly gruesome ones had the ability to make the Advisor feel slightly uncomfortable), heights, none of it. When he glanced up, he saw a person. A person that was tall, taller than himself, with a body of pure muscle. Black ink wove in and out of the curves and ridges of well-built arms to form the partially incomplete image of a bird of prey. His eyes traveled up, past a six pack and a smooth neck, past a strong jaw growing a slight beard, to meet pupils that blazed an amber so potent that from a distance the eyes appeared bronze, or in the sunlight, a deep gold.

It was Gladiolus Amicitia. Shield to the Prince, challenger of the Blademaster, enemy of the Nifs.

He was also Ignis' issue.

And so, so much more.

The green-eyed man blinked once to clear his thoughts. No. No matter what convoluted setup Noct had ensured, nothing was going to happen, because Ignis simply wasn't going to let anything happen. Period. End of story. "At the moment, Prompto isn't that bad. I can assure you that Noctis, however, is."

Gladio blinked once as well, though it was one of confusion. "What do you mean? What did he do, besides his usual crap?"

"He was kind enough to rent two rooms." Ignis folded his arms in front of him and held his oldest friend's gaze steady. "One for him and Prompto, one for us."

"...that's...great." The Shield said slowly, still not understanding why Ignis' eyes had tightened at their edges.

"It would be." Came the ready agreement. The sandy blonde beckoned Gladio to follow him as he made his way towards the elevator that Prompto had conveniently neglected to notice. Leave it to him to take the longer and more interesting path. He heard footsteps beside him as he continued, "There's a small problem with our...accommodations."

Gladio was the one who pressed the elevator button. A pattern of soft dinging indicated that it would arrive on the floor shortly. "Which is?"

Swallowing subtly and turning his head to stare at the elevator doors subtly, Ignis announced, "There's only one bed."

"So we each take a half."

"It's a bloody twin size."

The pause that followed those words was shorter than predicted. "Alright. I'll sleep on the floor."

Of all the things he had expected to hear (ranging from the logical declaration that the pairs would be made to switch rooms to the illogical, coy suggestion that they both share the bed anyway, like the characters in the Advisor's romance novels tended to do), that had most definitely not been one of them. A memory of a few days ago, when the Shield had had the skin on his back nearly burned off due to a poorly aimed spell, flashed in front of his mind. "Gladio, your back-"

The words were waved off. "I'll be fine. It hasn't been bothering me as much lately. 'Specially after you rubbed that herb ointment on it." The brunette rolled his shoulders. "Feels good as new."

 _I'm still not letting you sleep on the floor._ Ignis thought silently. The elevator chose that moment to arrive. Gladio waited for Ignis to step in first before himself stepping in. The button of their floor was pressed. "Allow me to take the floor, Gladio. You still need to heal."

Grunting, the warrior replied, "Take the damn bed, Iggy. You need the relaxation. Gods knows this is our last normal night for a long time." Amber eyes flicked to meet green ones. "C'mon, sweetheart, don't worry your pretty head. I'll be fine."

Those words, rather effectively, shut Ignis up.

* * *

It did no good to obsess. Nor did it do good to become anxious. It was also unhealthy to plan every single detail of the next day, down to the minute, and think of all of the ways it could go wrong and drawing up ways to prevent every single one of those errors.

He was laying on the twin bed and doing all of these things.

Sounds of rushing water played in the background; the soothing noise created by a running shower. Occasionally it was added to by a deep voice, humming or singing songs from the radio, but otherwise its steadiness was unbroken. Ignis closed his eyes and sighed. It was calm. Tranquil. If the possible doom of the impending day could be taken from his mind, the Advisor would almost wish all evenings could be this way.

Yet the worry remained.

Noctis had a lot to do tomorrow: fight through Imperials, gain the favor of an Astral, and then make it out alive. A small checklist but a dangerous one. The rest of the group was tasked with escorting as many citizens as possible from Altissia. This is something they probably would've done anyway, at least after the major fighting was over, yet it had become an errand that they couldn't properly escape lest they invoke the disfavor of the first secretary, Camelia Claustra. The Prince had already had a private audience with her and had made a positive impression...in times such as these, though, one could never be sure who truly intended to stay on their side.

Ignis rolled to his side and tried to focus on something else. The twin bed was small but comfortable, possibly the most lavish bed he'd laid upon since his last night in his own quarters at the Citadel. Running a hand down the sheets let his fingertips feel the silk-like fabric as well as the intricately stitched designs. He did it again. It was a soothing gesture. There hadn't been many soothing gestures lately; what counted as such was saving someone's ass in the midst of a fight, or the way Gladio sometimes put a hand on Ignis' back to steady him while they were climbing steep terrain, or the moments in dungeons that they were all cold, tired, and hungry, and seemingly because he needed something to hold on to Noctis would grab Prompto's hand, and the blonde would not let go.

Those were soothing gestures. So rare. So silently appreciated.

The door to the bathroom swung open then. Gladio emerged wearing nothing save a pair of boxers. The Advisor briefly rolled his eyes, sitting up so his lifted eyebrow could be seen. "You'd think, after complaining of the rises and drops in temperature, you would wear something besides the bare minimum to bed."

"At least I'm not wearing what looks like my grandfather's jammies." The brunette smirked.

Ignis manged to keep both his expression and tone controlled. Yes, his clothes appeared old-fashioned. He knew that. He liked them that way. "These are not my ' _grandfather's jammies_ ', they're-"

Gladio cut him off with a yawn while he ambled over to the bed. "I know. They're the ones you ordered special from Tenebrae just because you like the way they look."

"...precisely." How had he known that? A jitter that composed of panic and curiosity (and something else) traveled through his body as he pictured his oldest friend sneaking into his room and rummaging through the drawer where he kept his undergarments. No, he'd never do that...so maybe Ignis just flat-out _told-?_

"Relax, Iggy. You told me once in passing. Don't freak." Gladiolus assured, his gaze searching his friend's. "One of the times we went out to lunch. Now are you gonna move so I can steal a blanket?"

Ignis was honestly only now realizing that the man in front of him, his living fear, knew that small detail about him. That would seem silly to anyone else, but Ignis didn't _tell_ people that kind of stuff, the little meaningless details of his life. He didn't tell people about his _life_. But he'd told Gladio. And he'd remembered.

 _That has to mean_ something _, right?_ A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Noctis asked.

Ugh. He needed to stop thinking about this now. Such an insignificant thing getting him all worked up. Astrals, he was as bad as a teenage girl.

"Steal a blanket?"

"Yeah." The Shield reached for the end of one of the soft sheets and tugged experimentally. "For the floor."

Oh. Wait. What? No! "Gladio, you're not sleeping on the floor." Ignis pushed himself off from the bed, finding himself chest-to-chest with his fear.

"Yes, I am. You'll take the bed." Gladio gently tried to push him back down, but the Advisor caught both of his wrists and wouldn't let him. It was such a petty thing to fight over, they weren't even fighting for themselves, but for some reason each man wanted to make that soothing gesture. Once it became clear that the brunette wasn't going to back down, Ignis quickly crossed Gladio's wrists in front of him, then used the momentum of the action coupled with the bigger man's strength to twist and fling himself neatly between his friend's legs. He neatly popped up and shoved Gladio forward just as gently as the latter had pushed him. The action didn't work like he'd planned, for his elbow was grasped and he was sufficiently yanked forward to collide with a warm body.

They both went down in a heap on top of the mattress (thankfully the frame didn't crush under their combined weight). A few "Oof!" noises were uttered and they scurried around, trying to get up and off of each other to no avail.

Gladiolus stopped fighting and began to laugh at their ridiculously tangled position. Ignis found himself smiling a bit too. "It seems as though we're _both_ taking the bed."

Amber eyes (that had previously been closed in mirth) opened slightly. "I wouldn't mind."

So slightly stunned was the emerald-eyed man that he let his friend tug them into a more comfortable position, ending with Ignis resting atop Gladio's chest, and turn off the single lamp beside the bed that had been the only source of light. Strong arms held him close, held him tighter still as a breath of ease escaped the Shield's lips. Ignis almost allowed himself to do the same, to let the exhaustion of sea travel and running about the city and impending doom carry him into sleep, to rest his head on a hard chest and drift...

 _But._

This was not supposed to be happening. This wasn't happening right now. This wasn't allowed to happen _because he'd said he wouldn't let it_.

Silence for a moment. Only breathing could be heard.

"Gladio."

"Mmm?"

"I should get up."

"Why?" The word was a whisper, just like the previous sentences in their exchange, yet it was softer. Soft enough to coax a light shiver to run down Ignis's spine. The arms held him even tighter. It felt so good to be held by him. Too good.

"You need to sleep."

"I was almost there, 'til you started whispering."

 _Don't feel guilty, don't feel content, just let it go._

"My apologies." Ignis began to shift away. "I'll leave you to it."

Gladio's grip stopped him from moving any further. Not understanding, the bespectacled man glanced up. In the bit of moonlight that was filtering through the window, he could make out a mouth that curved into a slight frown, and pupils that had decided to stay open and look right back at him. "Why can't you stay here?"

The invisible _with me_ that was tacked on to the end of that sentence was a product of Ignis's imagination. "The bed is too small for you to sleep comfortably with me on it as well."

"I'm not uncomfortable. Are you uncomfortable?"

Be careful. Be careful, now. "No." _Far from it._

"Good. So stay."

How could he deny such a simple request?

Ignis stayed, but he did not sleep. He thought and worried and dared to let his eyes skim over the features of his fear, whom took no notice. This was it. This was his last semi-normal night in forever and he was spending it curled up in bed with the object of his dreamy nightmares. What a way to end the day.

Making sure to remain quiet, the Advisor let his gaze travel downwards until he reached the large, messy (and rather new) scar that ran across Gladiolus's chest. It was still healing, that much was obvious, the only way it could be done so was with time. Even in low lighting it burned an angry red, puckered, the result of a brutal fight of blades. He'd never once heard a complaint about it from Gladio.

Tentatively, he reached to trace it. It felt just as rough as it appeared. Bumpy and full of uneven ridges. To most it was viewed as unattractive, but to Ignis it was a sign of bravery, will, and determination, all things that he found _highly_ attractive. Just one of the things he found so of the other man.

Suddenly Gladio grimaced. His hand came to grasp at Ignis's, still lightly pressed to his scar, and his voice came thick with sleep. "Ow. Hurts a bit."

A bit of shame welled in Ignis. "I'm sorry, Gladio, I-"

"S'okay." Vibrations of his deep voice caused his chest to rumble as he spoke, his tone suggesting he was ready to doze again. "How were you supposed to know..."

"If it hurts, you should let me look at it before you return to sleep." No response. "Gladio." A pause in breathing. "Gladiolus Amicitia, don't you dare try to hide an injury from me."

"It's fine, Iggy. It doesn't hurt that bad."

Ignis let a beat pass, and another, before he experimentally (but not too harshly) pushed on the area.

The response was immediate: a pained gasp emitted from Gladio, who increased his grip on the Advisor's hand. He sucked in a broken breath. "T-That hurts!"

"How much?"

"A damn _lot_."

"Allow me to-"

Abruptly the emerald-eyed man was yanked upwards until his nose was touching his friends. He could only blink as Gladio (who was still breathing with a bit of difficulty), rested one of his hands on the side of his face, using his thumb to sweep across his cheek. Staring at him deeply, the Shield said, "Ignis...I know you want to help. You're right, it does hurt, it's been hurting since I first got it two weeks ago. You can take care of it if you really want, I promise. But not right now. I'm tired, but more importantly _you're_ tired, and right now there is nothing except you and me and getting some sleep." Gladio searched his eyes. "Okay?"

Ignis couldn't say anything for a moment. He swallowed. "I...you're hurt."

"We're all going to get hurt, sweetheart." Gladio's body was relaxing against his own, enveloping him in warmth and encouraging him to relax too. "Sometimes the injury never goes away. This one won't. You can't do anything about it but accept it." He paused for a moment, wrapping his arms around the Advisor, holding him close again.

"I'm sorry, Gladio."

"You shouldn't be. Fixing people, making people feel better...that's how you show you care, Iggy. I appreciate it." The brunette closed his eyes. "Let's sleep."

It only took five minutes for his friend to fall back into slumber. Ignis carefully slithered lower so that he was close to the scar once more. In a moment of boldness(be careful, be careful now), he leaned forward to press his mouth to the skin. Gladio did nothing save twitch slightly. Calmed and with tingling lips, Ignis took in one deep breath, two, three.

 _So much for a semi-normal night. Bring on the hell of tomorrow._

Then he was asleep.

* * *

It was bedlam.

There was a faint ringing in his ears, though it wasn't loud enough to make him deaf to the shrieks of the terrified people as their city fell to ruin. Ignis had enough room in his head to think of what a right shame it was; he'd only _known_ of the fall of Insomnia, he hadn't been there to see the buildings crumble to the ground. It was probably a good thing that he hadn't, though, for at that time he would've been in the palace, and would've been dead at the end of the night.

Ah, but there, there it was, the water was reaching for people again. The Advisor shot forward with his long daggers, slicing and slicing again, watching as the water that somehow had a solid form retreated back to the waves.

It wasn't going _horribly_ , yet it wasn't going too grandly, either. People were escaping, at the very least. Ignis threw his weapons in the air and briefly worried over if they were going to dissipate. In the next second the tell-tale shimmer brightened in front of his pupils for a split second, his daggers were replaced by a lance, and he spun on his heel to block another solid water geyser from drowning him.

The rhythm remained just that for a while: hacking, slashing, switching between his weapons to make sure that Noctis was still alive. Colors blurred before him. Sounds faded, rose, faded. He was all instinct now, no room to think no room to see or hear or feel or remember yesterday night-

"IGGY!"

He whipped towards the sound of his name. So familiar. Who-?

A flash, then Gladio was there, right in front of him, blocking a stray piece of cement from hitting Ignis in the knees. Straightening, the Shield announced, "Everyone is headed north! Not too many casualties so far, Prompto is doing good protecting the kids, said he'll be heading Noctis' way in two minutes-"

A loud BOOM! sounded. The two Crownsguard moved away, beginning to run deeper into the damaged city. Wind grew stronger, as did the waves, causing them to have to fight their way forward faster than before in order to cover the same amount of ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ignis saw something that caught his attention. He grabbed his friend and wheeled him towards the sight. Pointing, he yelled, "LOOK! Ardyn! He's here with the Imperial troops!"

Gladiolus squinted. "You're right...think he's after Noct?"

"Could be. Let's make sure he doesn't get the chance to find him. Let's be off!"

They were running again. Dodging random pieces of debris that were flying about everywhere, jumping over holes in the ground, fighting the Imperials that got in their way.

But then, strangely enough, things began to get fuzzy.

Slow.

Unclear.

Ignis didn't know what happened. His body had sort of just...stopped running. Gladio was ahead of him, but he had stopped, too. And now he was running towards Ignis. Lifting a hand to his face, the Advisor felt some sort of liquid. And broken glass. His glasses. He'd broken his glasses. His hand pulled away and looked a dark red. Blood. On his hand. What-?

"Ignis! Ignis, move! _Ignis!_ "

Gladiolus was screaming, his face twisted up into a horrible expression. Terror. He looked like he was terrified of something.

Ignis stumbled forward, reaching out his bloodied hand to his fear. _Don't be afraid,_ he wanted to say. _I'll be alright._

Something hit him.

He hit the ground.

* * *

The last thing he saw was burned into the edges of his mind. There was still his voice, that warm deep voice, coaxing and encouraging and simply _there_ with him. Yet, from then on...

From then on, Ignis was in the dark.


End file.
